


Recovery Begins

by Defira



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the assault on Starkiller base, Finn struggles with his recovery, and Poe struggles with his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery Begins

When Finn wakes, Rey is gone. 

He’s not surprised, of course, but it hurts all the same. She talked about running back to Jakku about as often as he talked about running to ground, so it’s not really a shock when the medic gently informs him she’s gone. It’s more of a surprise to hear that it wasn’t Jakku she left for, but the lost star systems that leave a trail towards Luke Skywalker. 

_Luke Skywalker_. Stars, he’s surrounded by myths and legends, people who walk a thousand feet tall and who shape the fate of the entire galaxy and he’s... him. FN-2187. A number. A unit. A resource, used and exploited by the First Order and scarred beyond recognition because of it. He’s heard the names of the old heroes, because even in the depths of the new regime the stories slip through the cracks. The conditioning wants him to hate them, to think of them as traitors and terrorists and anarchists, mass murderers defiant in their pride. 

But they’re all so painfully, _wonderfully_ mortal, just like he is, just like they make him feel. 

Like Poe, the first person who saw him as a person in return, and not as a number. The person who _named_ him, and saw him for who he wanted to be. The person who smiles at him brighter than the sun breaking from behind the clouds, who sits at his bedside when he doesn’t need to, who seems determined to drag him from the depression and the grief and whose laugh lets him forget for a while that the girl he risked everything to save has vanished to go hunting for gods, while he lies broken in a medbay.

He waits until Poe leaves each day before he cries. 

____

When Finn wakes, Poe is ecstatic. 

He’s not surprised, of course, but he’s desperately relieved all the same. He took a kriffin’ _lightsaber_ through the spine, so the fact that he’s awake and conscious and has feeling in his limbs is nothing short of a miracle, according to the medics. Everything about Finn, from the moment he met him, has been miraculous, as if he’s some god-damned angel sent to them- sent to _him_ \- in their hour of most dire need. 

He’s grown accustomed to being surrounded by the myths and legends of the galaxy, and he’d be lying if he said there weren’t days when he walked with a swagger in his step, self-assured in the knowledge that he has a place at their shoulders, that he has a right to stand there too. He’s a goddamn _great_ pilot, and the Resistance is his life, the fire in his veins, and to know that his actions every day make a difference gives him the sort of rush that he usually only gets when he’s in the cockpit of his fighter. 

Or when Finn wakes after days of unconsciousness, and the surging wave of relief leaves him weak-kneed. 

Finn, who was strong enough to walk away despite the rancor shit they crammed into his head to make him loyal. The person who laughed with delight with him in the mad rush of their escape, an almost child-like glee in his voice as Poe talked him through the gunner position, who kept fighting for him despite thinking him dead, who risked everything to bring the star map home for him. The man who stood against Kylo fucking Ren, who brought down the shields on Starkiller so he could get the job done. 

The medics are optimistic about his physical recovery, but it’s less common knowledge around the base that Finn is suffering from scars that run deep into his soul. It’s probably some sort of breach of medical ethics that he knows, but to be fair, no-one _knows_ that he knows. He went to double back and tell Finn something he’d forgotten during one of his visits, and had stumbled in the doorway when he’d found him crying quietly in the bed. His heart had lurched up into his throat with the need to comfort him, but he didn’t know how Finn would take that, so he’d slipped out again, pressed up against the wall in the hallway as he’d listened to him weep. 

The scars of his own torture still linger fresh upon his skin, but he knows the hours he spent in agony and terror aren’t really comparable to the decades Finn spent being conditioned daily. 

He waits until Finn stops crying before he creeps away in silence. 

____

“Surely the great hero of the resistance has better places to be than to slum it with a trooper,” Finn says, trying to word it like a joke even if he hasn’t a hope in hell of making it sound funny. The medics have been encouraging him to exercise his legs, to get movement back into them, and he’s so kriffing _exhausted_ just from walking around the room. He’s not great company, but Poe never seems to take his silences or his awkwardness to heart.

Poe’s smile, like always, is genuine in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest. “I’m pretty sure the great hero of the resistance is actually _you_ , Finn,” he says, very pointedly poking a finger into his arm. There’s a buzz of warmth where he touches him, and he nearly shivers from it. “So if anything, you’re slumming it with a measly ol’ pilot. Common as shit. Credits a dozen, we are.”

“There’s nothing measly about you,” Finn finds himself saying instantly, and if the ground had opened up to swallow him at that moment he could not have been happier. As it was, Poe laughed delightedly, and Finn did his best to ignore the way his cheeks prickled with embarrassment. 

“That’s what I like about you, Finn,” Poe says warmly, softly. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, just. Nothing they did to you could ever outweigh the goodness you carry in you.” 

“You’re the best pilot I’ve ever seen,” Finn says, because it’s the truth, and he’s been wanting to say it for weeks now. 

“And you’re the worst _trooper_ I’ve ever seen, Blaster-Boy,” Poe quips in return, “but you’re a goddamn hero. Without you, there’d be no resistance left, and-”

When he cuts off abruptly, Finn rolls his head to the side on the pillow to look at him; the intensity of the look in his eyes leaves him somewhat breathless. 

Poe licks his lips before continuing, and it draws Finn’s gaze to his mouth. “Without you, there’d be no me,” Poe says. “They would have killed me- you gave up _everything_ for me.”

Finn can feel his heart trying to escape up through his throat, but somehow he manages a self-deprecating smile. “Wasn’t like it was a hard switch.”

____

“Dameron, come _on_.” Pava manages to make the two letter word stretch out for at least eight syllables, hanging over the side of the couch and poking him in the shoulder. “Surely the great hero of the resistance can slum it with the common folk for a few hours for a few games of cards.”

There’s mischief in her eyes when he glances sideways at her, and he can’t help but smile in return. “You just want to fleece me of all my money again,” he says pointedly, looking back down at the datapad in his lap. He’s not really reading it, not really, but it’s better than sitting with only his thoughts for company. “As if you didn’t leave me high and dry bad enough last time.”

“Well, yeah, one day when I’m old and ancient I’d like to be able to tell my great grandkids that I flew with Poe fucking Dameron _and_ stole all of his money in cards because he doesn’t have a game face to save his life.” 

“I have a-”

“Kriffin’ stars, you wear your heart on your sleeve Dameron, just accept it. You couldn’t hide that goofy grin of yours to save your life.”

Poe stabs a finger towards her, very seriously. “I did, I definitely did, I have proof-”

“Everyone knows you tried to shit-talk Ren back on Jakku, Dameron, Finn told everyone about it.” At the mention of Finn, the little flutter of butterflies lurches back to life in his stomach, and Jess looks at him knowingly. “And you also can’t keep a straight face for shit whenever anyone mentions his name.”

“He’s... a great guy,” he says lamely, because he doesn’t know what else to say when confronted so abruptly. 

“Yeah, and he’s mooning after the girl something fierce.” She slaps her hand down on his shoulder, a gesture that’s probably supposed to be comforting but just feels heavy. “Come play for a while. Take your mind off him.”

He feels like an idiot, and he has to wonder how many other people can tell. If _Finn_ can tell. “I’m good,” he says instead, and from somewhere he manages a self-deprecating smile. 

____

Walk to the door. It’s not that hard. Walk to the door from the bed. He can do that. It’s only a half dozen steps, and then he’ll be outside and he’ll be fine, everyone will see that he’s fine and not broken and not pitiable, he’ll be outside where it’s not so claustrophobic and where people don’t just leave him because Han was bad enough, but for Rey and Chewie to be gone as well, he’s-

He’s trying not to have a panic attack again.

He’s halfway across the room and frozen, because he doesn’t have the strength to make it to the door, but he’s pretty sure he can’t make it back to the bed, and he doesn’t want to call out for help and have them find him in a heap on the floor again, but everything fucking hurts and his legs are shaking and there’s cold sweat on his brow and he can’t, he can’t do this, he can’t-

“Finn?” He didn’t even hear the door, but suddenly Poe’s hands are on his waist and his voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his life. “Finn, _kriff_ , you’re shaking like a leaf in a storm.”

It’s so easy to just slump against him, and Poe takes his weight without even a grunt of surprise, simply holds on tighter and lets him break apart. He’s warm, so _wonderfully_ warm, and there’s one arm around his waist holding him to him while the other cradles the back of his head while he hides his face against his chest. 

“Easy, easy.” Poe was the first person who ever saw _him_ , and not just the armour. “You’re okay, it’s okay. Do you want to sit down?” 

He likes the way Poe smells- the faint hint of grease from the hangar bay, and something spiced and peppery-sweet that tickles his nose, some kind of cologne. He’s warm, and he’s comfortable and safe, and it feels really good to have his arms around him like that. 

“You’re slipping there, Blaster-Boy. If you’re gonna swoon into a puddle at my feet, I’d rather get you back into bed before I drop you and General Organa yells at me.”

When he goes to move, ostensibly to help him to the bed, Finn finds himself digging his fingers in to the edges of his jacket. “Don’t go,” he whispers, ashamed of himself for the weakness in him, ashamed that Poe has to see him like this. 

“ _Hey_.” Poe’s hands are gentle, and the way he runs them over him is probably meant to be soothing, but it just makes him shiver. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’ve got my word.”

Poe glances down at him and Finn notices the way his eyes dart to his mouth for a moment before he looks back. He’d have to be stupid not to have noticed all the little clues Poe leaves, the way he probably thinks he’s being subtle, and until now he hasn’t really wanted to think about it too much. It hurts too much, having lost Poe once already and now having lost Rey instead, and why would a man like Poe ever want a broken creature without a name?

“Finn,” Poe says softly, gently, as if he can read his mind. “Finn, come on. It’s okay, I’m here. Let’s get you off your feet.”

It’s only a few inches to make up the distance, so he presses forward and kisses him. 

There’s a soft noise of surprise from Poe, almost a gasp of relief, and for a moment it’s only bliss- warm and soft and he tastes better than he smells, and there’s a hand on his cheek, fingers tracing softly along the line of his jaw, and-

Poe grunts in frustration and pulls back. “I- no,” he says, lust and irritation warring in his dark eyes. “Not like this.”

Finn could not have hated himself more had he handed over the keys to the resistance base to Kylo Ren in person. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling the words babble up in him in a panic, “fuck, I’m sorry, I thought-”

Poe’s expression softens, and he runs the back of his fingers over his cheek almost reverentially. “Hey, hang on now. I didn’t-” He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What... wait, what?”

Poe kisses him once, soft and brief, and his eyes are earnest as he looks at him. “I’m not going to- take advantage, or anything like that. You’re hurt, and you’re miserable, and-”

Something about the way he hesitates makes Finn’s stomach flutter. “And?”

“I’m not a substitute for her, either.” Poe grimaces, as if he’s ashamed of himself to be saying it aloud. “You like her, everyone knows it. I’m just... I’m not interested in being a diversion while she’s gone.”

He feels light-headed, and he can’t believe he’s actually having this conversation. He, a man named Finn and not a unit designated FN-2187, is talking to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen about whether or not it’s appropriate for them to be kissing. 

“You’re...” Poe bites his lip, and Finn’s gaze zeroes in on it, a jolt of heat searing through him. “You’re fucking _extraordinary_ , Finn. And I can’t stop thinking about you, and I keep finding myself thinking the most embarrassingly corny romantic shit about wanting to fall into your eyes because they’re dark like the night sky and I feel like I could fly forever in them-”

Finn manages a shaky laugh. “You’re right,” he says hoarsely, “that is embarrassingly romantic.”

“I’m a pilot, not a poet.” The look in his eyes flashes abruptly to hunger. “But I can take you soaring if you like.”

He can’t help the shiver that runs over him, and he knows that Poe can feel it from the sly grin on his face. His fists are bunched up in the front of Poe’s jacket, and he relaxes them with some difficulty; Poe seems to take that as a sign that he’s ready to move back to the bed again, and supports him the last few steps until he can slump down in exhausted relief on the edge. 

“Do you want me to call the medic?” 

The last thing he wants is someone else in the room, not right now- right now it’s hard enough to find space for his own thoughts, given how fast and wild they’re turning. “I like both of you,” he blurts out instead, “it’s not- it’s not just because she’s gone.”

Poe is kneeling before him, one hand on his knee, and Finn sees the shuttered caution in his eyes at his confession. “Okay then,” he says carefully. “So what happens if she comes back?”

Finn swallows. “I... don’t know,” he says weakly. “But I- I don’t want to keep running. From anything. So I don’t want to run from this.”

The smile that makes his heart flutter is back. “You’re not running anywhere at the moment, Blaster-Boy,” he says pointedly, squeezing his knee once before climbing to his feet. “You get comfortable. I’ll get a medic to check you over.”

Poe saunters through the door with a little more swagger in his step than normal, and Finn bites his lip as he finds his gaze drifting down to his ass as he leaves. 

It’s a beginning. It’s enough.


End file.
